


Spark

by SparklingDragonTears



Category: Green Creek Series - T.J. Klune, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Post Teen Wolf series, Post Wolfsong, Stiles Stilinski's Name is Mieczysław, Top Gordo Livingstone, stiles hides his identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:23:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparklingDragonTears/pseuds/SparklingDragonTears
Summary: A man with an impossible to pronounce Polish name and an electric energy wanders into the Bennett territory, searching for one Gordo Livingstone.Gordo is drowning his sorrows at the bar when his skin comes to life with the new magic on his land. He can't help but be drawn into the mystery of this stranger.It helps that the man is absolutely stunning when he smiles.





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe spoilers if you haven't read Wolfsong, Ravensong or seen all of Teen Wolf.
> 
> Set after Stiles is out of college. Events of Beacon Hills have taken place. Events of Green Creek have taken place up to when Joe, Carter, Kelly and Gordo have returned. Set before the reconciliation with Mark. Before the battles. Joe and Ox are both alphas to the blended pack. 
> 
> I hope you like it! Gordo is great, gruff and snarky and caring. My new favorite magical being.
> 
> Enjoy.  
> \--

He’d felt it the instant the wards were breached. His rose thorns twisted, but didn’t hurt. It wasn’t malicious, but Gordo felt the pull around his arms as whoever it was crossed into their territory with intent. Under his leather sleeves, Gordo felt the raven flick it’s wings, but it stayed perched along his bicep. 

He felt the pull of _New?_ Ringing along the wolf threads. He sent out green, green, _safe for now._

He felt the land springing alive as a new magic touched with every footstep of the stranger. His arm itched as a flower bud bloomed from the vines. Whoever was coming was powerful, whatever they were. 

Gordo adjusted his jacket around him, covering the tattoos and gripping his drink tightly against the bar. He looked around the Lighthouse. It was a relatively calm night for a Friday, just a few couples and two small groups of friends. He suspected in a few hours though, it would pick up when the music turned up and the beer started flowing. Bambi tilted her head and sauntered his way.

“What’s that look for?” She asked, running a rag over the bar top. “You lonesome? Want I should call the boys?” Grodo gave her a small smile and shook his head.

“No thanks, I… I’m actually expecting someone.” He said casually, taking a drink to avoid her surprised gaze.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” She swatted his arm with the rag, to which he made a disgusted face. She grinned toothily, leaning closer. “He cute?” She whispered conspiratorially.

“Who says it’s a he?” Gordo snapped. He scowled at her, but she only laughed, looking up when the front door creaked open. He could tell by the wicked smirk on her face that whoever was here was a ‘he’ and was definitely ‘cute’.

“Hey there, stranger.” She called out, dripping saccharine voice. “What can I get you?”

Gordo felt the pulsing pull of his raven’s wings as the footsteps came to rest behind him. He turned to look up at the man behind him. He felt his heart stutter. The was met with bright honey eyes and a face covered in 5 o’clock shadow. The kid had to only be in his early-to-mid-20’s, but held a practiced stance. He was guarded, body made to look casual, but arms and legs full of tension, ready to run, ready to fight. Gordo recognized the stance at once. This boy was a fighter.

“Jack on the rocks, double?” His voice was low and tired. He flashed a grin that made Gordo resolutely ignore the swoop in his stomach. 

“Coming up, doll.” Bambi kept an eye on them as she went to fix his drink.

“You mind?” The man asked, gesturing to the stool beside Gordo. He nodded to the opening and watched the kid fall gracelessly into the seat. He heard Bambi snort back a giggle, but the kid was focused only on Gordo. It made him feel self-conscious. Before he could be any more awkward, Bambi came up to them, bold as always, sliding his drink toward him, and placing another beer in front of Gordo, even though his was only half-empty. He sent her a suspicious glare, but she ignored him in favor of their new company.

“What brings you into our little mountain town?” She asked.

The man shrugged, reaching up and running his long fingers through his dark shaggy hair. He swallowed lightly, Adam’s apple bobbing against his pale neck. Gordo absolutely did not notice these things. 

He threw back the rest of his drink.

“I’m just passing through, doing research about the forests in the Pacific states.” He glanced over to Gordo, who was trying very hard not to squirm under Bambi’s evil grin.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you stopped by, because _Gordo_ here,” Gordo threw her a glare, to which she paid no mind. “Is an expert on these forests.” The man’s eyebrows jumped in excitement, but he quickly schooled himself to appear casual again. Gordo could practically hear the spike in his heart rate. “ _Annnnnd…_ ” Bambi continued, filling her voice with heavy-handed innuendo. Gordo closed his eyes, cursing her, already knowing what she was going to say. “He is an expert in a lot of other areas too, if you had some more _specific_ needs.” Gordo only took pleasure in the fact that the kid’s eyes went wide and his pale skin flushed pink. He sputtered a thank you, drowning his embarrassment in a pull from his drink. Bambi laughed again, shaking her head as the kid tried to put a 10 on the counter. “On me. Gordo here doesn’t bring friends often.” She smirked again, waving off the kid’s thanks and left them to themselves.

Gordo studied the man for a moment, watching him fiddle with the napkin under his drink. He felt the vines contorting along his arms, coiling tight. There was no pain, but a distinct tenderness swelled as he felt shadows stretching under the roses and thorns, a dark bruise blooming under the colors. A warning. There was something about this man that he felt a desperate need to know.

“So… hi.” The kid said lamely. “I’m Mikey.” Gordo scowled, the kid was good, face and voice easy, but he knew a lie when he saw it. He felt the talons on the raven flexing. 

“Lying already?” Gordo asked, eyes narrow. He didn’t care how maddeningly the muscles moved under the dark grey shirt, or how long those fingers looked wrapped around the glass… He shook away these thoughts. Okay, so maybe he didn’t care so much about the lie. He needed to get fucking laid. He took another swig, watching the kid’s eyes dart away before coming to rest on Gordo’s sleeves, watching like he knew what was writhing under them.

“Most people can’t pronounce my real name,” He sounded a little nervous. Gordo almost felt bad for calling him out. The man waited a beat before continuing in a foreign tongue, “Mieczysław.”

Oh. Mikey then. Gordo blinked a moment, carding through the catalogue of his studies. He dug deep into his study of accents and languages until he felt the spark of familiarity.

“Polish.” He stated. Mikey looked impressed. He flashed that brilliant grin again and Gordo felt his resolve slipping. He knew he didn’t miss the way the bright eyes skimmed over him, fingers tightening on his glass before raising it to those damn-near perfect lips to throw back a hearty swallow of the whiskey.

“‘Gordo,’ huh?” Mikey asked, looking over his leather-clad arms in thought. His eyes rested at Gordo’s neckline. He was pretty sure the tattoos weren’t peeking out, but they moved so damned often, he could never be sure. Especially now that they were in constant motion. Whatever this Mikey was, it wasn’t human. “Livingstone?” He asked, cutting off Gordo’s train of thought. 

Ah. So that’s what this was. Well, shit. He’d been hoping to drag the boy out of here tonight. 

Gordo threw up the defenses inside of him, but he felt no threat, no ill intent. He only felt curiosity and the spark of something alive in this space. 

“If you’re here for the Bennetts, I’m no Emissary.” Gordo grunted out, turning a little away, falling to his drink again. He however, didn’t miss the flash of confusion and… hurt? On the kid’s face.

“No, I… I’ve just heard of you, is all.” Whatever emotion Gordo had seen was hiding again behind the cool mask of indifference. Gordo looked over the young face. He saw the lines of stress, the dark rings of exhaustion, all slipped behind a charming smile and glittering eyes. He felt guilty, something he hated to admit, even to himself. 

The fact that the kid didn’t question the Bennetts or ‘Emissary’ said a lot. The thorns contorted again, and Gordo wasn’t sure what the discomfort he felt was. 

_Gordo gordo brotherlovepack safe?_ Rang through the green and blue and gold strands running through his heart. He forced himself to relax and send back reassuring green, even though he saw Mikey shift in his seat, a brief perplexed look crossing his eyes before disappearing.

Gordo sighed.

“Sorry, people like me to play messenger.” He offered, a lame excuse, but Mikey seemed to accept this. He gave a shy smile, tucking into his glass again.

Gordo could have rolled his eyes at the cliche driving trash pop rock music Bambi had turned on. The bar was already picking up and one of the groups of young kids had gone to the middle of the floor to dance. A couple joined them and Mikey watched them a moment.

He met eyes with Gordo, who glared at him.

“No.” He answered before Mikey even said a word. The kid just grinned. Gordo was going to have to work on his glare. “I don’t dance.”

Mikey stood and Gordo realized just how wide the kid’s chest was. He swallowed when he held those long fingers out towards him. Bambi made a completely un-subtle coughing noise and Gordo was again blinded by the stunning smile. He was powerless to resist and felt the raven flutter down his arm when he grabbed the kid’s hand.

Mikey happily dragged Gordo into the small group of people. Gordo cursed to himself, when he let strong arms pull their chests together. The kid had no moves to save his life, but he rocked them together to the beat and that was all Gordo needed. He had one arm looped around the back of Mikey’s neck, the other resting on the kid’s hip. Mikey’s hands never rested in one place, slipping under Gordo’s shirt and feeling the muscles under hot skin. The fingers moved with the tattoos, following the flowing lines that curved over his body.

Gordo groaned against this stranger’s neck when their hips ground together. Hot breath ran up his neck and teeth nipped at his ear. He felt a growl buzz through his ear as fingernails scraped at his hips. There was no way this kid didn’t spend time with wolves.

“I’ve got a hotel room down the street,” came the low rumble, just above the music. Gordo felt heat shooting into his gut. He nodded, pulling the hard body tight against him, wanting, needing.

He looked up to the bar and met eyes with Bambi. She smirked knowingly and pointed to her clipboard. He nodded, knowing she would let him settle his tab tomorrow. 

Mikey nuzzled behind his ear, lips leaving a hot trail down his neck. They ground against each other, just this side of obscene and Gordo couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck. It had been too damn long.

“Let’s leave before I fuck you right here in front of everybody.” Gordo growled. Damn wolves, he blamed them. The urge to possess ripped through him and he dragged his teeth over the kid’s neck. Mikey’s breath stuttered and he tipped his head back allowing Gordo access to mark the pale skin. Gordo sucked a bruise into a soft spot that made Mikey’s knees buckle, before tearing himself away, dragging the kid toward the door.

Gordo wasn’t quite sure how it happened so quickly, but one moment he was pinned to the wall outside the bar with a whiskey tongue dancing across his own, and the next he was dropping to his knees in an old dusty motel room, yanking Mikey’s leather belt form his jeans.

He popped open the kid’s jeans, shoving them down with his underwear, just enough for his cock to spring free. Mikey’s hands found his hair, fingernails dragging lightly across his scalp as Gordo closed his lips around him with no preamble. Gordo sighed through his nose, feeling the hot skin on his tongue. He worked deeper, trying not to choke. It had been a while since he’d sucked someone off.

Mikey’s hips twitched against Gordo’s hold, fighting the urge to fuck into the wet heat. Gordo ran this thumbs over the kid’s skin, taking satisfaction in the resulting jerking movements. He teased his tongue under the head of Mikey’s cock, surprised when he was tugged back and yanked into standing. 

Mikey pressed his tongue into Gordo’s mouth, pushing forward with one hand on Gordo’s chest while the other shoved his open jeans down far enough to kick them to the floor. Gordo took the hint and shimmied from his own pants. He started stripping off his jacket, letting it land somewhere on the floor. Mikey pulled away just enough to yank his shirt over his head before reaching under the hem of Gordo’s tank top, dragging it up his torso. Gordo pulled it over his head and suddenly a solid line of skin pressed against him from lips to feet. He was pushed backward until his legs hit the bed. Mikey nudged him with his knees. Gordo scooted back on the bed until Mikey was slotted above him, hands roaming over his colorful skin, dick grinding against his own.

Gordo pulled Mikey impossibly close against him, fingernails raking against the man’s back, catching on scars. Mikey pulled back gently, breathing hard. Gordo almost whimpered at the loss, but just managed to keep it in.

Mikey’s eyes followed his hands as they trailed along the vines twisting through Gordo’s skin. “Beautiful,” he breathed in awe. Hot fingers burned against his roses, tracing the bruised shadows that had bloomed. The raven flinched away from the touch, but the flowers arched toward the kid. He inhaled sharply in surprise, but didn’t pull away. “They _move…_ ” His voice was reverent.

Gordo traced his hands over the kid’s own tattoos, not bleeding colors and magic, but tiny ink-dark stars dotting the vast expanse of nothing. He traced his fingers between the moles, over the scars that carved shooting stars across the pale universe that was his skin. On his shoulder lie a constellation of teeth, mark of a Wendigo. Jagged claws had once carved ribbons into his ribs and left bicep. Pinhole claw tips had once pierced into the boy’s hips and left a story behind.

He felt the pause resting on his chest.

“Your wolf.” Gordo met the boy’s eyes. He looked a little sad behind the lust and wonder. “This one is mine.” He shifted enough to raise his hips and reveal the silver dollar sized triskelion with swirling ends in deep, night-black ink, resting just next to his hip bone. The swirling arms struck something in Gordo’s mind, a lost memory of a learned pack symbol. He knew it was an important one, or his father wouldn’t have made him learn it. But Mikey’s fingers felt like sparks dancing across his nipples and down over his ribs and the witch could barely remember his own name. The stark ink against pale skin made something primal course through Gordo. He noticed that although the long neck was flecked with more pinpoint claw marks, there was no mating claim, only the purple splotches Gordo had sucked to the surface. He felt the irrational need to leave his marks where all the other wolves would see it. This kid was a god-damn masterpiece. He was muscles, eyes, star-moles, scars and electricity, and it was a tragedy he was left to people like Gordo. If his wolf hadn’t laid stake to the kid, why shouldn’t he?

“Wanna fuck you so bad,” Gordo growled out, reaching up and pulling Mikey as close as he could, shoving his tongue against the kid’s. The rough stubble burned deliciously against his cheeks and he bit at plump lips. His fingers dug into pale hips, sealing them tightly together. He brought his hand up between them, offering his fingers to the kid. Mikey let out a whine, taking Gordo’s first two tattooed fingers deep into his mouth, down to the last knuckle without resistance, slick tongue dancing in swirls around them. Gordo squeezed his eyes tight and groaned. If they met again before the kid left, he was sure as hell putting his dick on that wicked tongue.

He dragged his hands down to Mikey’s ass, pulling apart his cheeks and pressing slowly in to his heat. Mikey pushed back against his fingers, taking them in as deeply as he could. Gordo pressed in and out a few times, but the kid already had a hand squeezed between them to wrap around Gordo’s dick. He wasn’t going to last long if he let this continue.

“Can I?” He asked roughly, withdrawing his fingers and shoving Mikey’s hand away from his sensitive flesh. Mikey nodded eagerly, already shifting up to take Gordo inside him.

Since Mikey had seen his tattoos moving already, Gordo let them glow dimly as he pulled against the pain and sunk into the kid in one strong movement. Mikey’s breath shot out in shock and his eyes sank closed against the feeling. Gordo held as still as he could to let the kid adjust, but he couldn’t keep the twitch from his hips as he ground his teeth. He was about to pull out, when Mikey drew in a rough, shaking breath.

“God damnit, Gordo, _move,_ ” Mikey demanded, opening his eyes and glaring a threat to the witch. He didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out just the barest amount, before pushing his hips up as deep as he could. He set a grinding pace, knocking the most delicious sounds from the kid’s throat when he rocked down hard to meet Gordo’s thrusts. He felt the heat under his hands as bright honey eyes met his, a glow coming from inside of the kid. The dark-star skin shone with an ethereal sweat and Gordo was stricken with the same fascination from before. The seemingly graceless body somehow moved like water above him, never still, eyes a storm of energy and desire, muscles in constant waves. 

Gordo felt the pulsing in his balls, ready to let go. His raven spread it’s wings, stretching around his arm wide. Mikey’s hand came up to rest just below the bird. Gordo grunted as his orgasm hit hard, slamming through his groin, forcing his hips into soft flesh above him. He shook, feeling himself drain, cum, sweat and magic all flowing out of him. His fingers had embedded themselves in the kid’s sides, not that either seemed to mind. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Mikey’s jaw dropped open and he clenched down, stripping his free hand over his dick faster than Gordo could track. The moment he groaned out his release, Gordo was hit in the chest with the electric brand that was Mikey. His vision whited out as he felt the raised scars of tattoos that didn’t exist on the kid’s skin. He felt runes and symbols burning against his own magic, bright lightning in his heart, scorching the personal barrier under his skin.

Rings, thick and thin, two of them, one surrounding the other. A bullet. An arrowhead. A fleur-de-lis. More sets of rings. A sheriff’s badge. A nurses cross. A four-pointed ninja star. More rings, more triskelion. Then a dark punch crashed through his entire being, his magic filling the spaces before it could shatter a hole within him.

Gordo gasped as his senses flooded back to him. He felt the thorns jabbing into his arms to wake him up. There was a body burning hot beside him, breathing heavily, radiating against his skin. He looked down, the sting of the thorns recede as he caught his breath. Everything looked normal, but the tattoos covering his body glowed brightly, the raven in flight, circling his arm. He looked over to the other man in his bed. Mikey’s eyes were wide and worried, but there was no glow about him, no tattoos other than the small symbol at his hip and the deep purple marks Gordo had left.

“Are you ok?” Mikey asked, voice soft and scratchy. Gordo closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the dusty hotel pillow.

“What the fuck…?” Gordo choked out. What the hell had that been? He could barely process what he’d seen, what he’d felt. His raven was starting to calm, settling back where it liked to nest. He opened his eyes again after a moment, only to find the bright eyes watching his face guardedly.

“I’m sorry…” Mikey said softly, hands resting on his chest.

“What the hell are you?” Gordo muttered, raking his eyes over the naked body beside him. He watched the rise and fall of long fingers along his pale chest. The kid smirked, traces of worry dissipating quickly.

“Just Little Red,” He said casually. Gordo narrowed his eyes at the flippant answer.

Neither of them had bothered to move, laying on top of the crumpled blankets, side by side, only inches apart. If either had wanted to, they could have rolled on top of the other.

“Where did you come from?” Gordo asked after another moment staring at the man. The triskelion nagged at him, begging to be remembered. Mikey shifted a little, glancing at the raven before answering.

“California,” He answered, sounding distracted, fingers twitching like he wanted to touch the soft glow beside him.

“You came all the way up to BFE from California?” Gordo muttered, nudging the kid with his arm, letting him give into temptation and run static-charged fingers along the vines.

“Research, remember?” He replied, eyes trailing over Gordo’s arms.

“Yeah, right, research.” Gordo rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself. “There’s nothing up here but trees and wolves, and you have your own down in-“ Gordo’s eyes went wide and he shot up onto his knees, flipping around to look down at the kid. “California!” He accused, hands limp at his sides in shock. “The _Hale_ pack?!” He demanded, looking between the tattoo and the bright eyes, which looked… amused? 

The mash of symbols and emblems flashed through his memory, flooding together in their chaotic symphony. Hale, the rings… that meant…

“McCall…” Gordo felt his voice go tight. He watched the kid sit up, looking somehow both cautious and amused. He waited until Gordo’s mind caught up with him. “ _Stiles?_ ” Gordo was looking over him, finally matching a face to rumor and legend. 

“Took you long enough,” he answered, running a hand through sweat-drenched, disheveled hair. “I don’t know whether to be humbled or insulted.” He grinned, leaning back against the headboard to watch Gordo’s reaction.

“So… You came here for me?” He asked slowly, finally beginning to understand the push of the foreign magic around him. He’d heard the stories, they all had.

The Hales had refused to become part of the werewolf alliance. They wouldn’t allow their children to be documented and controlled by anyone but their own. They were an old history, a strong land, not dissimilar to the Bennetts. Rumors of a True Alpha had spread like wild, but he was Hale from the moment he was turned, forever under protection of the family name. Last Gordo had known, only three living Hales remain in the tangle of packs and territory in SoCal. They had become a force, protectors of the lost, a refuge for the supernatural in the South West. 

Gordo had heard the same stories everyone had, fantastical beasts of legend, come to life and defeated by children. The Hale/McCall pack had gathered a whole beastiary worth of members, each deadlier and stronger than the last. 

The only reason the little region a few hours north of Mexico had caught any interest with Gordo was that this famously benevolent and savage pack contained humans who fought alongside beasts. Gordo had thought it foolish until he felt the tethers of his own humans, and realized that they had all been living in the dark. Somehow, these stupid teenagers had done something never before seen, and it made them modern fable.

And Stiles. Stiles Stilinski. The non-human, resident human of the little supernatural Brady Bunch. He was the right hand of Alpha McCall, and apparently partnered to one of the Hales, according to his tattoo. He was always said to be in the thick of battle, a fighter of necessity, never a Hunter. Tale told he couldn’t die. Gordo was pretty sure this was an exaggeration of power within the boy. 

There were so many things he wanted to know. These kids had faced things he’d never even heard of. As he’d once told Ox, anything you can imagine…

“Why did you really come here?” He asked instead. Stiles looked serious, something Gordo hadn’t been expecting.

“I know you can feel it,” He answered, fiddling with his bitten short fingernails. He tried to hold Gardo’s gaze, but his eyes found Gordo’s tattoos more often than not. “Whatever this… thing is, inside me.”

Gordo frowned, how could the kid ever not know he held magic? Gordo felt the constant thrum of push-pull movement against his skin every second of every day. He could feel the power in this kid straining to get out with every fidgeting breath.

“I don’t…” He suddenly looked every bit of tired Gordo knew was hiding under the cocky mask. “Sometimes I hurt people.” He whispered, fingers twitching. Against his better judgement, Gordo sat back, kicking out a leg into Stiles’ space. Tiny shocks jolted through the runes on his leg as Stiles’ long fingers traced the dark ink. “I wanted to ask the best…”

“How long?” Gordo asked, catching Stiles by surprise. He looked up, confusion flicking across his face. “When did it emerge?” Gordo clarified, trying to hide his interest.

“I don’t know, Deaton said Beacon Hills is a beacon for the supernatural, so maybe all my life?” Gordo frowned. Deaton… why did he know the name…? “I think he covered it, until I was possessed and it woke something up.” Stiles kept talking, either ignoring or not noticing the shock on Gordo’s face. “I could do things… Control Mountain Ash, make things happen… Hurt people… I tried to ignore it, but it got stronger. Now I can feel it all the time, like something inside is about to boil over.” He looked up desperately into Gordo’s confused eyes. “I need help, I can’t hurt anyone else…” 

Gordo didn’t know of any witches younger than himself. There were so few on the radar, and all of the ones he knew of were older than a single human lifetime. Even his father had been linked to several generations of Bennett wolves. The magic pulsing against his own certainly felt like a witch, but there was something warped about it. Gordo could feel something dark in the boy and knew his loyalty ran deep as any witch with a pack. Gordo had done great, terrible things in the name of the wolf, and the bruises aching under his thorns suggested that Stiles had done the same. But how could any witch make it this far without training, without help, without control?

“Who is Deaton?” Gordo asked, flexing his foot and allowing the runes to dance their slow dance around his calf. Stiles watched in fascination.

“Druid, Emissary, Teacher, Vet, General son-of-a-bitch.” Stiles rattled off, flicking his fingers up while listing titles. “‘Peacekeeper’ my ass. Dragging information out of him was always a riddle… but… I think maybe he kept me from exploding myself during those years.”

“Talia’s Emissary.” Gordo remembered. His father had praised the man for refusing to side with the wolves, keeping his magic only to do what he thought right for balance. Stiles nodded. “The council never forgave the Hales.” A known powerful family, a True Alpha wolf, and a whole litany of supernaturals they couldn’t control. And one of them had blatantly sought out the Bennetts. “They won’t be happy you’re here.”

Something sparkled in the kid’s eye and he grinned.

“The only reason you know I’m here is because I let you feel it.” He was arrogant, cocky. Gordo didn’t give in to the jolt of anger that buzzed through his veins. He didn’t want to push away what might be his only chance to learn about Beacon Hills. They were an island of magic for a reason. He settled for pulling his leg back to himself, much to the disappointment of the young man beside him. He settled back against the headboard beside Stiles.

“Show me.” Gordo settled for. If this kid was anything like himself, he knew Stiles would rise to a challenge. 

Sure enough, bright eyes flashed for a moment, before he clenched his fists tight. He closed his eyes and Gordo resisted the urge to scoff. He sat for a minute in silence and Gordo was about to tell him to give up, when his raven twisted sharply. The air charged and Gordo felt like a step had fallen out from under him while climbing. He felt the sudden missing space of Stiles. He could see him, probably touch him, but there was an emptiness in the space he occupied. The wards felt nothing, the land felt nothing. Only the air around him stirred with energy the kid couldn’t contain.

“Hey, alright,” Gordo backed down begrudgingly. He was a little nervous about the sudden pressure in the room, making the air hot and claustrophobic. “Come back, I don’t want you to set the bed on fire.”

There was a burst of wind through the small space that shook the furniture and made the walls creak. A heavy weight settled in Gordo’s chest, the feeling of new magic on his land again. Gordo was glad he’d muted the bonds for tonight, or the pack would be at the door by now. Stiles looked paler now, a sheen of sweat glistening over him that had nothing to do with sex. Gordo scowled, reaching over and feeling the kid’s clammy forehead. Stiles’ face was flushed, but his eyes were bright and aware.

“So maybe I need practice.” Stiles said with a soft chuckle. Gordo pulled back and watched cautiously as the color slowly returned to his skin. Stiles sighed after a few quiet minutes before speaking again. “I didn’t actually know if I could do that.” He ran a hand over his jaw, rubbing at the bristles thoughtfully. “I figured I could… That’s how it mostly works; I want something and it happens…” He trailed off and Gordo knew there was a ‘but’ to this.

“What you just did is dangerous and fucking stupid.” Gordo snapped, internally wincing as he felt the words of his father spewing from his own tongue. “If you have no control, it’ll take over you.”

Stiles looked rightfully reprimanded. He stared into the awful floral bedspread, fingers wringing together with nervousness. Even without any tethers, Gordo could feel the bright flood of pink anxiety crashing against him.

“That’s why I came here,” Stiles said softly, lifting his eyes to meet Gordo’s. He looked completely open, desperation pleading from his gaze. Gordo would never admit it, but any reservation he had melted away at that. “I know it’s a lot to presume, but I need help. I know you’re Livingstone, you’re witch to the Bennetts. I trust you more than any other witch alive.” 

Gordo felt a pang of guilt and hesitated. This fucking kid was putting his everything into a stranger with magic. What kind of world had he grown up in? “You don’t even know me,” He tried. Stiles shook his head fervently. 

“But I do,” He insisted, twisting to fully face the witch. “I know you can feel the Void in me, it’s there like a black hole.” Gordo had felt the darkness, could see it reflected on his skin. He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t worried him. “There are so many dark magic users out there, I can’t be one. I can’t let that happen. I can’t let someone teach me that, or let it take over on it’s own. Please, will you teach me? I’ll do anything…” There was a raw honesty in Stiles’ eyes, an ache Gordo could feel bleeding blue down to his bones. 

There were a million reasons not to. The Bennetts had their own shit to deal with, their own demons and darkness. His father. His pack. The omegas. The council. The Hunters. Joe and Ox would feel the misery and black hole inside Stiles and banish him from the territory as soon as they saw him. He could only mute the bonds for so long before they would feel the supernova of power exploding over their land. This could go wrong in so many ways. Stiles was an untrained adult with magic. It was a miracle he was even alive and hadn’t burned his house to the ground as a child by throwing a tantrum.

But… Beacon Hills. 

“I’m not a great teacher,” Gordo warned. “I’m pretty impatient.” Stiles looked hopeful, but waited with baited breath. “Yeah, okay. I’ll help you. If you tell me about Beacon Hills.” He agreed, ignoring the fluttered warning of his raven’s wings. Stiles grinned that blinding grin again.

“Thank you, thank you.” He babbled out, looking a hair less stressed already. “Absolutely. Anything you want to know!” Gordo couldn’t help but smirk in amusement.

“I want to know it all.” Gordo let Stiles take his hand in an enthusiastic handshake. Roses bloomed along the vines on his arms, gold and red, shadows a dark warning under them. Gordo let the tethers open up again, feeling a flood of colors, hearing them from wherever they were in the middle of the night.

_Gordo, gordo._  
_Where?_  
_Feel power_  
_New_  
_Strong_  
_brotherlovepack_  
_Safe?_

Gordo wrapped a hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and roughly pulled his head closer. He pressed their lips together, met with no resistance. He felt his cock waking up in interest again, letting Stiles’ tongue force it’s way into his mouth, sharp facial hair burning against his skin. Just before muting the bonds again, Gordo pushed out a call of green, green, peace. 

___New magic, powerful_  
_Young, smart_  
_Helping_  
_Safe for now_  
_packlove_  
_allies?_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone. <3 Maybe I'll make some little training oneshots to follow this. 
> 
> Till next time,  
> \- J X


End file.
